Any Colour You Like
by the ersatz diplomat
Summary: An accident at the Ministry sends Auror Tonks to the Swinging Seventies, where she meets four very familiar young men who aren't the Beatles. Clearly, I've fallen prey to the tempting idea of magical time-travel. Rated T for language and ridiculousness.


Disclaimer: These characters belong to someone that isn't me.

Author's Note: Clearly, I've fallen prey to the tempting idea of magical time-travel, and I have enough self-esteem to write something completely ridiculous, preposterous, and highly illogical, and try and get away with it. The title is from the eponymous Pink Floyd song.

Hey, JK did it, why can't I?

* * *

_Any Colour You Like_

_London, 1995  
Ministry of Magic  
Auror Training Department  
_

Nymphadora Tonks sighed in exasperation, following Kingsley into the Time-Turner testing and training rooms.

"Why aren't the Unspeakables handling this like they did when I was in training?"

"They've upped the security on the D.O.M, Nymphadora, like I suggested. Besides, you're the only one on the squad that has any _practical_ experience with time-travel."

"My only 'practical experience' was during school, and I was only using it so I could be in the accelerated study program…and I just—I'm not the best teacher in the world, King."

"You'll do fine. Just…change your hair to a more, ah, natural colour. We don't want the poor fellow distracted from the lesson."

"This _is_ natural," she rolled her eyes, pushing a hand through her hair as it faded from a short, glowing pink, growing out to shoulder length and darkening to brown. Tonks pulled a silver compact mirror from her pocket and checked her reflection, then snapped it shut. "And I am not a fan of your empty reassurances, Shacklebolt."

"Don't panic, and you'll be fine. Just one problem though--"

"Of course there is."

Kingsley chuckled. "He's not very good _wif zee Eenglish_," he smiled. "He's a transfer. You know the Ministry, always trying to broaden our horizons."

"Damn."

She wasn't having the best of days to begin with, not since Dawlish was assigned her spot on the next undercover mission at the morning meeting, and she had been loaned out to train newbies in the ways of Time-Travelling. Scrimgeour was breathing fire down their necks in the squad's pursuit to catch Sirius Black, whom she knew personally—having spent several nights in the past few week at his house, working for the top-secret Order of the Phoenix.

Unfortunately, only a few of those nights had been spent in the presence of the resident Defense professor, on whom she had a ridiculous (to borrow his own terminology) crush, and who couldn't seem to decide whether to accept or rebuff her advances, but had kissed her anyway.

She didn't know whether Lupin was intentionally stringing her along, or if he was simply as confused as she was, but her money was on the second. Tonks sighed again, trying not to look too put-out as she opened the door.

A tall, broad-shouldered young man was standing in the center of the circular room. He saluted her as she approached. "Greeteengz, Auror Tongs."

She frowned and shook her head. "It's Ton_ks_."

"Zat ees what I zay, Auror Tongs."

"Yeah, well…it's very nice to meet you too," she said briskly, shaking his outstretched hand.

"Zoo vill teech me 'ow to utilize zee time-toorner, no?" He arched a heavy eyebrow, grinning in a manner she found slightly lascivious.

"I guess so."

"Goot, goot."

"Yes, goot," she snapped, "And I suppose you've read the text before coming in to take the practical, right?" She looped the long golden chain around the foreign Auror's neck.

"I hayve."

"Okay, then. It's very simple. Well, it's not, but for my sake we're going to pretend it is. First, we note the current time, which happens to be half-past three. It is highly important that we remember this time, so that we won't cross our own path by coming back too soon. It's always best to come back a few seconds after you've left, to make sure."

He nodded, lips pressed in a thin line over a neatly combed goatee.

"We'll only be going back about an hour at first, with the time increments becoming longer. Remember, the time is three-thirty. Okay, now we turn—" She made a spinning motion with her finger, starting to turn the hourglass pendant.

"Jah, I know. Vee tooorn—" The trainee nodded, smiling enthusiastically, and started turning slowly on the spot.

"No! It's not like Apparat—oh, shit."

He disappeared with a deafening blast, the shock wave knocking her into a suspended fall while the room turned to darkness. The gold chain of the Time-Turner floated around her neck, empty of her student--the hourglass spinning so fast it looked motionless.

_

* * *

_

London, 1978  
Islington, to be Exact  
A Dark Alley

Rain came down steadily, dripping off the edges of the marquee and making puddles in the uneven sidewalk, dampening the small group of people huddled close to the box office across the street. Long past sunset, the round lights of the second-run cinema were reflected in the flooded street like tiny drowning suns.

"Acccckkkk!"

Four young men were making their way out of the alley when the scream from above startled them, quickly followed by a body that landed awkwardly on its feet and proceeded to stumble, face-first, into the motorcycle-jacket clad chest of Sirius Black.

"Ooof."

"Hey! I'm walkin' here, man!" He grabbed the interloper by the shoulders, hauling him up to eye level. The pale, pointed face of a dark-haired woman looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes as she tried to scramble backwards out of his hands, brandishing her wand.

"It's just a _girl, _Sirius…" James said, wiping rain from his round glasses on the hem of his rugby shirt. "Be nice, mate. Are you okay, miss?"

"Run into a bit of trouble with Disapparition? You didn't splinch yourself, did you, love?" Remus asked in a worried voice, and flicked the glowing stub of a cigarette in the gutter.

"I had trouble with that when I first started out, too," Peter added, nodding solemnly.

"Oh, fuck!" The girl shouted, with a look of growing panic on her face. She slipped backwards and landed on the wet asphalt. "Oh, dammit…oh, fuck fuckity _fuck_."

"You know," Sirius smiled disarmingly, "Basic law of magic—if you say it enough, it might just happen. Or at least, that's what I keep telling myself, anyways."

"It doesn't work for him—"

"Never has—"

"And yet, he keeps saying it anyway."

She stared up at them in terror, one pale hand defensively gripped her wand, the other frantically searched her neck. The girl sighed in relief when her fingers found a long gold chain and pendant, and she hastily tucked it down the front of her shirt.

"You know," James said, "we're not going to hurt you. We're all good guys, here. Well, except for Remus, he's kind of a prat."

The girl continued to stare at them, each in turn, until she shook her head in disbelief. She closed her eyes and opened them again, wincing as she looked up.

"I think I've buggered my ankle."

"Broken or twisted?" James jogged over and dropped to the ground next to her.

"Just twisted, I think."

"Ah, well, that's easily remedied." He reached down and helped her to her one working foot. "Now, let's see if you can make it across the street here, and once we get inside and out of the rain, we'll fix it for you. We're all decent with a healing spell."

"I can fix it on my own—" she said, leaning down to tug on the leg of her pants while standing on one foot, almost falling headfirst into a puddle.

"Whoa there, miss."

"No, allow us, please—"

"Yes, we can't leave a thing like you out here in the dark to fend for herself—"

"We'd be excommunicated from Gryffindor if we did—"

"And it's the least we can do, for being in the middle of where you were trying to land."

She snorted. "Well, I wasn't actually trying to land—"

"What happened, then, to get you here? Assuming you're not in the spot you intended to be in."

"I got into a bit of—of an accident at the Ministry of Magic—where I work. Where—um, this is embarrassing, but where am I?"

"You're still in London, dear." James wrapped an arm around her waist, acting as a crutch to help her across the street.

"Islington, to be exact. Watch out for that puddle." Remus said, walking backwards across the road. He swiped at the rain that plastered his hair to his forehead. "What is it that you do at the Ministry? And how on earth did you end up _here_?"

"I…I really can't say—"

"Oh, so you're one of the Unmentionables, then?" Peter asked, interestedly.

Sirius' grin fractured into barely-stifled giggles and Remus shook his head, rolling his eyes.

James cleared his throat, casting a look of mortification at the girl. "Ahem. believe the proper term is _Unspeakable_, Pete."

"Right, right."

"Um—yes. Yes, that's what I do." She said, hopping awkwardly on one foot, with an arm around James's shoulders.

"An Unspeakable! That's bloody brilliant!" Sirius took her other arm, grinning excitedly. "I thought about going into that field, myself. So you can't give your name or anything! It's a good thing there's no need to ask your name to figure out how cool you are, but I mean, you'll probably have to Obliviate us, won't you?"

"Oh, no, it was just a training mishap—"

"Not serious enough to warrant memory-modification?"

"Only on myself," she said, smiling wryly.

"Well, love, the least we could do is treat you to a movie." Sirius picked her up and set her on the sidewalk. "That is, if you're not busy."

"We're watching _Grease_." Peter stepped up the curb and steadied the girl, who cringed. "Do you like Muggle films? I thought _Jaws_ was pretty cool, personally, even if the shark was a fake."

"I do like movies, actually. I think—I think I'd like to go with you guys, if you don't mind."

"Have you seen this one before? It has _Olivia Newton-John_." James waggled his black eyebrows, stark in comparison with his pale face, as he handed Muggle money to the cashier. "Five, please, for the late showing."

"I'm sorry, but your _Olivia Newton-John_," Sirius repeated, wiggling his fingers in the air, "Still sounds like some sort of fancy biscuit. Delectable and tasty, but just a bit too frilly."

The girl sniggered, a snorting, unladylike laugh, and began to topple off of the curb.

"Never mind him." Remus caught her before she fell to a second doom. "He was dropped on his head as a child."

"Intentionally."

"And repeatedly."

"Which is why we've been to see this movie how many times, now?"

"Merlin only knows. There's nothing else playing."

"Well, we had the chance to go see The Clash tonight, but someone had forgotten to get our friend Alice a birthday gift, and decided to give her our tickets at the last minute."

"The _who_?" She asked, with astonishment written across her slightly blushing face.

A car rumbled past, muffled dance music thudding over the sound of tires on wet asphalt.

"No, The Clash," Remus sighed, and half-carried her through the door into the theatre, glaring at James as they pushed through the small crowd of moviegoers. "The Who aren't touring, anyway, even if they were, _someone_ would've given up our tickets—"

"Lily would've emasculated him if he hadn't!"

"And this is the second—"

"Third!" James quipped as they crowded into an exit-door alcove in the empty, sickly-green wallpapered hallway, complete with a scummy drinking fountain. "_Repello Muggletum. Muffliato."_

"—Third time we've come to see _Grease_, and the film still isn't even the slightest bit relevant to my interests."

Remus set her down on the shabbily upholstered bench and Sirius plopped down next to her.

"Rizzo's resplendent rack isn't relevant to Remus' interests."

"Nice job with the alliteration there, mate."

"Yes, splendid, simply smashing, ol' chap." James dropped to his knees, lifted her foot and prodded it with a finger, turning her ankle left and right. "Let's see…you're all muddy, love. _Tergeo_."

"I'm sorry, Sirius but all of the women in that film look old enough to be my mum."

The Unspeakable girl's grimace turned in to a grin as she started laughing. "That's funn—owwww."

"…Your mum is super-delicious, Remus."

"It runs in the family." He winked at the girl and she blushed thoroughly, wincing yet again. "Be gentle, James! She's a lady, not some rough and tumble Quidditch-playing bloke."

"Well, I'm no Healer, either… at least not yet anyway. Your ankle is definitely not broken, just sprained. _Episkey_ should do the trick, you think?"

They all nodded thoughtfully and James proceeded to cast the spell on her ankle, then took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "There you go, miss. Good as new."

"Ah..haha…well, thank you Harr—I mean, James… I've got to find the ladies' room, do any of you—"

"It's just down the hall, fourth door on the left," Sirius said brightly, and his friends looked at him with a triplicate of mystified expressions. "Shall we wait for you? The movie is this way—"

"No, it's okay. I can find it. You guys go ahead."

"Okay, then."

The girl smiled and took off down the hall at a quick pace, shoving her wand in the back pocket of her jeans.

* * *

_  
London, 1978  
Movie Theatre  
Ladies' Restroom _

Nymphadora let the door slam behind her as she stepped into the restroom, checking the bottom of the stalls for any Muggle feet.

"_Muffliato_. _Repello_ _Muggletum_. _Colloportus_."

She took a deep breath, leaning back against the door and letting her morphed appearance slip back to mousy-brown hair, ski-jump nose and amber eyes. It had been more difficult than she had ever imagined—holding an appearance for so long while her heart was racing and her mind had been twisted in knots…All while being barraged by the excited, rapid-fire dialogue of teenage boys.

"Dammit."

Shivering, she slid down the door and onto the tile floor. Almost two decades had raced backwards; now she was at a movie theatre, in the late nineteen-seventies, with four young men who had radically altered the course of Wizarding history.

Any stray word could change the set timeline, but the temptation was almost more than she could resist. It was heartbreaking to think about it, on meeting them: clever, brash James Potter would be dead in two years, Sirius would be thrown in Azkaban to have his vibrant soul slowly siphoned away, Peter Pettigrew would turn traitor, selling his friends out for protection they seemed more than able to give him, and Remus—Remus would be utterly alone.

Tonks had heard the entire story directly from the source, and the contrast between their teenage selves and the men she had met a few months ago was stark and depressing; they were merely shadows of themselves.

Aurors were supposed to hold to a strict code of justice—no Dark Wizard was to escape them, and there was Pettigrew, the betrayer, looking for all the world as if he had never done a thing wrong. She could take him quietly aside and he would never be heard from again, but that wasn't _justice_; it would be vengeance for a crime that had not even occurred. Hot tears smeared her eye makeup and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"This isn't your problem."

Tonks could fix their immediate future, with one spell, but what would it cost? Her mind raced through possible scenarios—none of them ended in a way that seemed to result in which she wanted part. Everything had to go just the way it had before—she had to keep the tinkering with space-time to a minimum. Disappearing altogether would send the Marauders into a Gryffindor chivalry-induced panic, but telling them the truth was not an option at all, so she decided to go along with the lie they had inadvertently put upon her.

Tonight, she was an Unspeakable, a mysterious girl lost and alone in an unfamiliar part of the city. It would work if she could keep a poker face. Tonks climbed to her feet, checking the mirror as she resumed her previous appearance, quite satisfied in the fact that she had told bigger lies to her own mother (and had survived) than she would be telling to these fellows.

She checked the time on her watch—it seemed stuck at half-past three, when a quick glance at the clock on the bathroom wall had shown it was just after ten at night. The normal progression of time of the date from which she had departed moved much slower than the time she currently occupied, the second hand on her watch ticked only once for almost every full revolution of the second hand on the wall clock.

Putting the Imperius Curse on Peter Pettigrew to keep him from joining the ranks of the Death Eaters was not an option, but spending some stolen time with the most infamous four boys in Hogwarts' history held just enough temptation for her to give in without remorse.

"Hmm. I guess time does fly when you're having fun."

* * *

_  
London, 1978  
Movie Theatre Hallway  
_

"She likes you, Moony."

"I believe you're right, Mr Pettigrew."

"The poor girl is in shock, and you three are horrible."

"Au contraire, mon frère," Sirius's gray eyes sparked with mischief. "She digs you."

"Whatever. Let's go get the good seats before they're all taken."

James pushed open the heavy door to number three, and they followed him in to the completely empty, dim room, where an advertisement for refreshments was playing on the glowing screen; dancing cartons of popcorn and drinks.

They looked at each other in puzzlement, then back toward the rows of unclaimed seats.

"Where are all the Muggles?"

"Good question."

"It's elementary, Watson; clearly, they've all gone to the lobby to get themselves a treat."

"Oops, I guess I forgot…_Finite Incantatem_..."

"Hey, at least we don't have to sit in the balcony again—it makes Sirius nauseas every time."

"Does not," Sirius huffed.

"How 'bout the middle?"

"Well, I think we can all agree," Sirius announced as they filed into the last row in the center of the theatre. "Unspeakable is one foxy chick."

"Yeah, I'd totally verb her noun." James grinned, propping one foot up the back of the seat before him. "If I wasn't…y'know…betrothed to Boudicca."

"I think you should go out with her, Remus," Sirius mused, lighting a cigarette. He exhaled a flume of smoke toward the high, paneled ceiling. "She seems like your type. She's got the looks, anyways."

"I'm…erm, not up for that sort of peril, tonight."

"Oh, not even a _little_ peril?"

"No, it's unhealthy," he shook his head, stealing his friend's cigarette and taking a drag.

"I bet you're gay."

"We've already established the fact that I'm most decidedly _not_." He flicked ash onto the concrete floor. "And that what I _am_ is someone who really shouldn't try to talk to women at all, because all I can do is lie to them. Do you think she wants to hear the truth? You should try and get her number. I think it would work out better for you."

"Nah, she reminds me of my cousin." Sirius punched him lightly on the shoulder and snagged the cigarette from his fingers, looking only slightly more disturbed than usual.

"…Not the crazy one, though, right?"

"Oh, Moony, they're _all_ crazy."

"Who's crazy?" A voice asked, and the girl climbed over the row, sitting in the seat Sirius had strategically left open between himself and Remus.

"Only my whole damned family."

"Oddly enough, I know exactly what you mean."

A dance scene started playing on the screen, with James and Peter singing along at full volume.

Remus shot them an annoyed glare, turning to apologize to the Unspeakable. "I'm really sorry about—"

"SUMMER DAYS, DRIFTING AWAY, BUT UH-OH, THOSE SUMMER NIGHTS!"

The girl sniffed, wiping her eyes.

"What's wrong? I mean, I know James is a horrible singer, but—"

"I—I've just been having a really fucked-up day."

"I'm sorry," he said, frowning. "Believe me, I know how that feels." He conjured a handkerchief and pressed it into her hand, then dug through a pocket, pulling out half of a chocolate bar. "Here—this usually makes things seem less fucked, at least for me, anyway."

She sniffled again and dabbed at her face with the handkerchief.

Sirius leaned over her and prodded his friend in the shoulder. "Quit making the foundling cry. It's not nice."

"She's having a bad day."

"Oh…Hey, here," Sirius sneakily passed him a ten-pound note. "Take her and get her a Coke, and whatever else she wants."

"Do you want to—" Remus asked, tentatively, with a hand on her shoulder.

"If you want to."

"Alright, then." He climbed over the back of the seat again, taking her arm as she did the same. He let go as soon as she was safely on two feet again, but had to catch her as she stumbled up the dimly lit steps and into the hall.

"You know," he cleared his throat, staring at the worn-out, beige carpet. "If there's somewhere you need to be—"

"It's okay, they won't be missing me for a few minutes more."

"Good. That's…um, good. How's your ankle, by the way?"

"It's great, thank you."

"Good. Oh, will you look at that," he said, looking down at two pairs of scuffed and road-weary black Chuck Taylor All-Stars. "We have the same shoes."

"Well, bugger all," she said, stopping completely. "We do."

"Your hair has blue in it." He picked out a still-damp strand,smoothing it out in his fingers. "Is it supposed to?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Sometimes that happens."

"Oh. What other colours can you do?"

"Any colour you like."

He laughed to himself, as if at some inside joke. "You should definitely do it pink, like that girl in the film."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I—" Remus began, and fell silent as the lock of hair between his fingers turned a shade of cherry-blossom pink. "How do you—"

"You don't wanna know."

An ironic smile flickered across his face. "Fair enough."

A group of Muggles walked past them toward the lobby, laughing loudly, and he waited until they had passed by to slide his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer to kiss her gently. She returned the favor, wrapping her arms around his neck until he stopped, pushing her away.

"Wait—wait, you're…you're not _with_ anyone now, are you?"

"Well, technically—"

"Technically?"

"Technically, I'm _not_…but even I was, I don't think he would mind that much."

"Wicked," he said, rather breathlessly, and then kissed her again. "Do you—I mean, if you want, my flat--well, _technically_, it's not quite mine, but isn't far from here—"

"Oh," she whispered, "I'm afraid I have to say no."

"Ha, that's funny. I was afraid of that, as well."

"No—it's not because you're—no, I just have to go back."

"What if I want to see you again?"

"You will."

He rolled his eyes. "Mm-hmm. That's what they all say. Or, you know…what they _would_ say, if 'they' actually existed..."

"Well, I mean it," she said earnestly. "But, honestly, I have to go."

"I'll see you around, then."

"You _will_."

"Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow?" Remus grinned sheepishly.

She laughed in a sad way, straightening the collar of his jacket. "Here's lookin' at you, kid. I'll see you around."

"What, you're not going to leave a glass slipper? How am I supposed to find you?"

"I'll find you, Remus, just don't—"

"Don't what?"

"Don't change too much," she said, walking away.

"I'll do what I can."

"I know you will." the girl smiled, turning around as she reached the door."Wait a second—how old are you?"

"Eighteen," he said, reluctantly. "But it's okay if you're older than me, it's not a problem—"

"Yeah." She smirked, stepping out the emergency exit door into the rainy alley. "You remember that."

* * *

_  
London, 1995  
Ministry of Magic_

Soaking wet with rain though it was a completely sunny afternoon, Nymphadora walked calmly across the Atrium, taking the lift to the Auror Division.

She flung open the door to the Time-Turner testing room and marched over to Kingsley, who was kneeling on the floor next to the unconscious, but still breathing, foreign Auror.

"Where was he?" She asked as water dripped from her hot pink hair onto the floor. She nudged the passed-out foreign Auror with the toe of her trainer.

"Trapped inside a wall on Level Three."

"Interesting."

"Where were you?"

"The better question would be 'When was I?' And the correct answer to that question would be: nineteen seventy-eight."

"Oh, I'm…so very sorry," Kingsley said with a cringe as he cast an unspoken _Ennervate_ at the man.

"It's okay...I'm taking the rest of the day off, if you don't mind. And Kingsley?"

"Yes?"

She dropped the Time-Turner in his hand, turning to leave. "Never—ever—_ever_ ask me to do that again."

* * *

_  
London, 1995  
12 Grimmauld Place  
The Kitchen  
_

"I remembered the oddest thing today—do you ever think about when we went to the movies? It was at that theatre near your old building, I was staying with you at the time."

"We probably went to that theatre a hundred times, Moony, you'll need to be a bit more specific."

"I was thinking of the time we saw that stupid Muggle flick, and met that girl—remember? Peter called her The Unmentionable?"

"I vaguely remember something not unlike that…" Sirius scratched his chin, in a visible effort to sort through memories. Though it was early afternoon, they were steadly depleting the amount of alcohol in the house because firstly, there was nothing else to do other than cleaning, and secondly, the cleaning project were more amusing after a few stiff drinks.

"It was that American film with all the cars—and with that actress that had hair like Tonks."

"Ah, yes! I remember that. You snogged her in the hallway, didn't you?

"The actress?"

"No, the girl…That's right, because then she left and we went home, and you got completely baked and listened to Pink Floyd until four in the morning. I think you said about a dozen times that you hoped every man she ever met gave her hell, and then you ate everything in the cupboard but the dishes."

"Hmm. I certainly don't remember doing _that_…"

"No, you wouldn't." Sirius laughed. "But I do."

"Well, don't tell the children. And for god's sake, don't tell Nymphadora."

"I don't know why not, she seems like she'd be into that sort of thing."

"…Exactly." Sirius grinned roguishly. "Speaking of… _witch_, what colour do you think her hair will be tonight?"

"Very punny, Sirius. I bet you another bottle it's black again."

"I wager it's pink."

"What are you betting, though?"

"Ah, well I say, if it's black, I owe you a bottle of Ogden's, and if it's pink, you have to ask her out on a date."

"What if I said I didn't want to?"

Sirius smirked. "Then I'd have to call my best mate a liar."

"Who's a liar?" Tonks asked, stumbling into the kitchen.

"Remus is," her cousin chirped happily.

"Well, that can happen to the best of us." She sat down at the table, summoning a coffee mug from the cabinet and pushing it towards Sirius, who obligingly added some firewhiskey.

"You're back early. How was work?" Remus asked, eyeing her shocking pink hair with a poorly-hidden smile.

"You don't wanna know." Tonks grinned, downing her drink in one.

* * *

Reviewers get a free trip to 1978....


End file.
